


I who dreamed wildly and madly

by Antigone_Sycamore



Series: I who dreamed wildly and madly [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x03, Angst, F/M, Missing Scene, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 16:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18673579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antigone_Sycamore/pseuds/Antigone_Sycamore
Summary: Death comes crashing down in waves.





	I who dreamed wildly and madly

> _All my life coldly and sadly_  
>  _The days have gone by_  
>  _I who dreamed wildly and madly_  
>  _am happy to die_
> 
> E.G.W.&N.

They won’t make it. Death comes crashing down on them in waves. None of them are going to make it. Backed up against a wall. He needs to look at her. Wants her to be the last thing his eyes see.

She’s screaming at the top of her lungs. Tall and bright and angry. Screaming and Screaming. 

But isn’t that how he found her? Screaming at the world.

It is harder than he expected. He who was a soldier all his life. He doesn’t want to die. There is nothing honorable about dying. They will have to part disagreeing on this. But he isn’t done yet. He can’t be done yet.

And then the whole world stills around them. Bright red and dark. 

When he tears his gaze from her face everything has come to a halt. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to stop disagreeing with her. Doesn’t want to stop looking at her.

His instincts kick in before he even realizes he’s moving. 

His remaining hand frantically reaches for her. For lack of better purchase blindly grips the high collar of her breastplate and starts dragging her forward with to much force. Away from the stonewall. Away _away_ from all of this. She stumbles on behind him, almost losing her balance. They surge through bones and bodies and fire. Nightmares come to life. Dust and bones. Rattling like a children’s rattle in the wind as his feet kick at the ground.

The sudden silence is ringing in his ears.

Brienne stumbles behind him. The hand that isn’t gripping her sword curls around his wrist as he drags her through mountains of death. Her squire follows closely behind.

They need to get to higher ground. They need to regroup. They need to-

But the deafening silence that has settled around them makes his limbs go numb. His legs won’t respond to his commands anymore and he stumbles forward to the ground, Brienne’s hard staggering breath following closely behind.

He fights to regain control. He doesn’t want to die. Not now. Not when he came so close. 

But the dead remain a lifeless pile of limbs and bones and dust. Ready to be picked up by the icy cold winds that never seem to cease in the North. 

Brienne’s hoarse voice floats through his mind as a whisper.

“Jaime.”

Her hand tightens around his wrist where he still grips at her armor.  


“Look at me.”

“Jaime.”

And he does. Her face is full of dirt and blood and sweat and tears but the blue of her eyes is bright and clear. Alive. She’s alive. 

Her other hand grips his shoulder and she is shaking him. Hard. Shaking him until his vision blurs around the edges. Until the ringing in his ears finally subsides. 

“Brienne,” he stammers in between ragged breaths. 

“Brienne.”

Her hands curls around his shoulders as she pulls him in. The clinking of their armor in between them the only sound in the icy cold night.


End file.
